


sing a new song

by setokaibas



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Other, gift for oilux, prequel to a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setokaibas/pseuds/setokaibas
Summary: you can't escape from the all-seeing eye.rudimentary possible mabill. mabel is 20. a possible prequel to a new series.please leave a comment.





	sing a new song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oilux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilux/gifts).



mabel wakes up, sticky-mouthed and tongue dry.

ever since she’d started making her mabel juice with extra coffee, she’d found this happening more often than not. the visions would come back, fluffy sweaters and dipper screaming and grunkle ford somehow frozen in gold–

she smacked her cheeks in a vague attempt at waking up, half-aware and rising from under her mountain of blankets. her voice is still slurred from terror and sleep as she carefully stepped over a unicorn plush she was mending. her voice wasn’t convincing, even to herself, but she still had to try.

“you can do this business thing, mabel pines. that dumb customer won’t get their way again, and that professor will give you that extension for sure!” 

her heart still raced, though, as she looked into the mirror next to her dresser. the brown sweater from 9th grade she’d worn at dipper’s latest science show had a spot of sweat on it, and the embroidery on the front looked rather sad. mabel pulled it off and scoffed. “man, mr. sweater, you definitely need a repair.” she carefully folded the sweater before dunking it into the clothes hamper she reserved specifically for her creations. it went in with some satisfying swoosh, and mabel gave herself a small cheer before turning to her closet. what to wear, what to wear? a small voice– _hurry, shooting star, hurry–_

a few sweaters she kept safe from moths still remained in the closet, their purples and pinks familiar, but one in particular stood out. its lemon yellow hurt her eyes for a moment; not recalling knitting it, mabel reached for the cloth and pulled it out. the hanger poked her arm as she examined the needlework; it was crochet, something she rarely did, but the pattern immediately turned her stomach cold.

thousands of delicate all-seeing eyes and bows dotted it, and slowly, ever so slowly, the yarn rippled. black traveled across into lines, and suddenly the fabric burst into flames. blue flames, which licked from the quickly dropped sweater up to ring mabel’s neck in a halogen light. a tenor voice began to laugh uncontrollably, loudly, and mabel felt dizziness coming onto her. she forced her knees to straighten, but almost screamed at a presence behind her back only moments later.

the voice, raspy but familiar, let out a little chuckle. “i made that just for you, shooting star. wear it for me, won’t you?”

mabel wiped some sweat off her face, composing herself despite the natural terror coursing through her blood. “no, you sick, evil equilateral-”

she whirled, only to see a man with a cheshire smile and a familiar color scheme. a tailcoat floated behind him, whipping around like a limb, and his face seemed to grow more handsome behind its hair and single blue eye. bill spun an all-too-familiar cane around as he laughed richly in her face for what seemed like centuries. the sound of his voice made something in her pelvis clench, and almost immediately she felt sick with something both oily and pleasant. 

“oh, i missed your spunk, shooting star. much better than that gloomy grey brother of yours.” he raised his hand, and she felt her body pulled towards him. she attempted to resist with all her strength, but the demon merely tutted and tugged harder.

“come on, pet. just one hello for your old pal. and”– her feet gave way– “there we go.” cinnamon and cotton candy and mabel juice swirled over her nose, and she realized the chest she had been leaning against not only felt good, but was very, very not right. squirming a bit, she found that a gloved hand clasped her firmly to the figure’s side, and he looked down at her with that one blue eye and a very, very wrong grin. 

“congratulations, mabel, you’ve earned me as your forever friend. and maybe more, by the looks of it.”


End file.
